


Dirty Dancing and Silent Oaths

by Hallianna



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Roughness, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Mass Effect 2</p><p>Fueled by a simple idea - what if F!Shepard really could dance, and someone on her crew found out?  Add in some dirty dancing, a few secrets, and a dash of intrigue spiced with black leather and rough wall sex, and you get this fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Dancing and Silent Oaths

Shore leave was exactly what they all needed after Horizon. Shepard had thankfully made Joker take them to the Citadel and not Omega. Garrus shuddered and ran a talon over his scarred mandible. He would be happy if he never saw that place ever again.

Garrus slid a practiced eye over the dance floor.  How he wound up in some hole-in-the-wall bar on the lowest Zakera Ward was all Shepard’s fault.  She’d been angry after her confrontation with Alenko and once they’d landed, had kicked them all off the ship.  He’d gone to her to see if she wanted some company, maybe share a beer, but she’d just growled and snapped, “Get the hell out, Garrus,” before slamming a datapad down so hard the screen fritzed.

An angry Shepard was one thing - he’d dealt with that before.  A hurt Shepard was dangerous and he wasn’t about to risk rubbing her wound raw.  So he wandered the Citadel for a while, refusing Liara’s dinner invitation, saying that he’d rather have some time alone.

He’d rather be back on the Normandy with his calibrations, but it wasn’t going to happen right now.

Garrus sighed and sipped his drink, watching the dancers.  On some level he understood the feverish dancing the asari and humans engaged in. All that writhing and rubbing up against one another looked like an excellent way to relieve some stress in the arms of a stranger. It wasn't unlike why turians sparred with each other -on the mats and in the bedroom. It made you forget your problems for a little while.  

He motioned to the salarian bartender for another drink. When it was brought over, Garrus started to hand over the right amount of credits, plus a generous tip, when the bartender said, "Not necessary." A jerk of his head to the right and then, "It's on her."

Surprised, Garrus nodded his thanks and looked over to see a female turian with orange clan markings raise her glass to him.  He tipped his head in acknowledgment but didn’t move toward her.  If he wanted to blow off steam, he might have sidled over to her and made small talk, then subtly start trying to impress her with his knowledge of sniper rifles and the weak points in krogan armor.

Never let it be said that Garrus Vakarian wasn’t a smooth son of a bitch.

The female turian watched him for a few moments, then realized that he wasn’t interested and turned to talk to the quarian across the way.  All the better, he thought as he spun fully around on the barstool to face the dance floor.  He didn’t need any kind of entanglements right now, even if it was just a few hours of mindless fun.  The Collectors were picking up human colonies like they were toys and Shepard was determined to stop them.  Which meant he was determined to stop them.

Where she went, he did.  Somehow, that human inspired a sense of right in him - that yes, they could save the galaxy...again, as long as she led them.  It was crazy, and sometimes he still caught himself staring at her diminutive form on the battlefield and thought, _How could someone so small be such a beast?_

And a beast she was.  Even Grunt had recently made the rather astute observation that Shepard could stare down an entire krogan battalion and make _them_ apologize.  If it ever really happened, Garrus hoped he was along to witness it.  That would be one for the record books, but then again, ever since he’d known her, Shepard had been breaking the rules and the expectations of everyone around her.  

Shepard was both terrifying and surprisingly graceful in battle.  Tiny as she was, she could duck in and out of cover, pop off shots, and then sneak behind a target and annihilate them with her omniblade in a matter of moments.  After serving with her for a few years now, Garrus had to admit that he enjoyed watching her take down targets through his scope, almost as much as he enjoyed taking down targets himself.  She was masterful, graceful in a way that Garrus had come to admire.

And speaking of graceful....he watched as the crowd on the dance floor slowly gathered around a lone figure who had been keeping to the shadows.  Human, from the stature, and female, with long hair the flew around her as she moved.  She flowed with the pulsing rhythm of the music and Garrus peered into the dim red and purple light to try and get a better glimpse of her.  No such luck, even with his keen eyesight she was too far away and the club was too dark.  

He sipped his drink and watched the crowd move with her, like she was silently commanding them with her body, urging them to do her bidding.  And obey they did - no one reached for her, not blatantly, but a few braver souls tried to shimmy closer to her.  He watched the human tip her head back and laugh, gently sliding away from the curious hands to a slightly more empty place on the dance floor.

The way she moved was like poetry and song all bound together in one body, and he found himself entranced.  Her curtain of hair hid her features and some of her body from his sight but it didn’t matter.  He was watching the way she twisted and turned, never touching anyone else.  The suggestions her body made to everyone in the bar screamed for attention - everyone was watching her, and yet know one could fully see her to put a face to that seductive sway of hips.  All lithe muscle and serpentine movement called to him as his body reacted in the most primal way possible.

The lights hit her form and Garrus caught his breath.  Spirits, what was she _wearing_?  Her waist looked tiny, smaller than any he’d ever seen on a human.  He felt his blood heat at the sight.  She turned his direction and her pale skin was hit with a red spotlight, shadows falling around her face and arms and Garrus got a good look at the garment.  Black leather pulled tight poured her form into a perfect hourglass, pushing her breasts up and out, shrinking her waist and flaring out at the hips.  He had no idea what it was called and didn’t care - whoever made those things for humans were geniuses.  He idly wondered what those breasts would feel like, if humans were really as soft as they looked.  

He knocked back the rest of the drink and toyed with the idea of wandering out to the dance floor, just to get closer to the mysterious woman.  She was human but that didn’t bother Garrus.  It might have a few years back but since he’d met Shepard...well, he looked at humans a bit differently since that krogan of a woman barged into his life and turned his world upside down.

Garrus got about five feet onto the dance floor before a chorus of disappointed groans rose from the crowd.  He quickly looked around and spotted the dark-haired woman slipping back into the shadows and through a back door. _She was leaving?_

Breath hitched in his lungs, he followed, dodging past the surging crowd, even shoving a few asari out of his way (he apologized but it didn’t dampen the glares they sent him) so he could catch up to her.  He had to know who she was, had to see her.

By the time he reached the same back door she had fled out of, Garrus was breathing hard.  It wasn’t just from exertion; he could feel desire pooling in his belly and it made him ache.  His plates shifted uncomfortably against one another - it was enough to make him writhe.

He slammed out the door and into the dark hallway, eyes catching a figure turning the corner up ahead.  He sprinted toward her, knowing that if he could just catch up with her-

_And say what?  Thanks for the show, and by the way, that black leather thing you have on really makes your waist look, uh....turian and supportive.  Which is good, because I’m turian and we love supportive waists -_

Garrus shook his head, skidding around the corner.  He slammed a palm into the wall to help slow him down so he could navigate the tight turn.

He stopped dead when the distinct but familiar sound of a heat sink being loaded was followed by the press of a pistol into his side.

Slowly, he raised his hands in submission.  “Not looking for trouble,” he said, trying to keep the flanging in his subvocals from making an appearance.  If it was a turian who had a gun pointed at him, his subvocals would give him, and his quickly cooling desire away.  It was a great way to be taken advantage of, or better yet, left for dead in some dank Ward alley.

“You found it anyways,” came the low voice from the darkness behind him.  “Turn around.”

 _Human female?  Damn, the woman from the club_ , Garrus thought before obeying.  She was wreathed in shadows and pointing a gun at him, but Garrus couldn’t help his instantaneous reaction to seeing that black leather thing up close.

He tried for levity.  “Now what?  Shooting me is a bad idea, I run with a pretty tough crowd.”

“Not as tough as mine,” the woman growled.  “Why were you following me?”

“I uh - well, it’s a funny story,” he began but she cut him off.

“Not interested, turian.  Back away, slowly, and you’ll live.”  She motioned to him with the pistol and he did as he was instructed.  She waited until he was a good five feet away before saying, “You wait until I’m gone, then you can leave.  Don’t come looking for me, you won’t find me.”

Garrus nodded, hands still out in front of him.  Slowly, she pulled back into the shadows and he waited for much longer than he probably needed to before moving.  Finally, he took a few steps forward.  She was long gone.

He sniffed the air, catching an unfamiliar scent.  It must have been her, likely her hair or some kind of perfume like the asari wore.  Sweet, but not cloying with a bit of a spicy note underneath.  He’d be dreaming about her tonight for certain.  A woman who danced like that and then had the nerve to pull a gun on a turian was someone he could respect and fantasize about.    

Garrus let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, mandibles fluttering in agitation.   _Damn, Vakarian, you need to go take a cold shower.  Or calibrate something._  

He signaled EDI.  “Shepard still aboard, EDI?”

“No, she left the Normandy almost an hour ago.  I track her signal heading back toward the Normandy now, but she was recently near your location.”

Garrus’ face plates twitched in confusion.  That didn’t make any sense.  Shepard getting off the ship would be one thing.  He could see her growing tired of moping around about Alenko and deciding to take her own advice about shore leave, but near his location?  She wouldn’t have any idea where he was.

“Sure you’re not confused there, EDI?”

If the AI could have scoffed, she’d have done so.  “I’m never confused.  Commander Shepard was near your location just minutes ago.  If you wish to speak with her, she is on the Normandy’s docking bay now, heading for the cargo hold.”

“Thanks, EDI.”

“Logging you out.”

Garrus turned around and began to head toward the docking bays, head swimming.  What EDI just told him didn’t make any sense.

A thought wormed its way through the common sense part of his brain but he brushed it aside, picking up the pace as he neared the bays.  It just didn’t make any sense at all.

The Shepard he knew, who he had fought beside and drank with and cracked jokes with...hell, they’d even compared scars at one point, was a singular kind of woman.  The woman on the dance floor tonight was completely different from her.  Add on to the fact that Shepard, try as she might, just could not dance.  Graceful in battle, a complete klutz on the dance floor. That was the Shepard he knew.

 

* * *

 

When the bay doors of the Normandy hissed open, Garrus quickly looked around.  He felt on edge, like he was waiting for something, anything to happen.  It didn’t help that he’d been riled up by his mystery woman only to have a gun pulled on him.  Then there was Shepard and her strange wanderings - definitely not normal.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to get off the ship, big guy,” came a voice from the front of the cargo bay.

Garrus gave Shepard the equivalent of a turian smile.  “Actually, I think your exact words were, ‘Get the hell out, Garrus’,” he said, subvocals purring playfully.  She seemed to be in a better mood, if her slight smile at his appearance was any indication.

She sauntered closer and he realized that she’d changed from her normal Cerberus uniform into some kind of loose-fitting shirt and trousers  Her hair was up, but messy - an odd thing for his commander.  She normally kept her hair regulation neat, almost to the point of prissiness.  

“And why didn’t you follow those orders, Vakarian?” she shot back, fighting a smile.

He shrugged.  “What can I say?  The Zakera Wards just aren’t interesting unless someone is shooting at you.”

Her smile flickered for a moment and he swore he saw panic flit across her normally even features. _What was that about?_

She stopped within a few feet of him and looked up, arms crossed loosely over her chest in a very Shepard pose that he recognized.  “So why are you back on the ship, Garrus?  Shore leave means shore leave - as in, don’t be on the ship.”

“You’re on the ship,” he shot back, sharper than he intended to.  He blew out a breath and rubbed a hand along the back of his fringe.  “Sorry, Shepard.”

“Rough night?”

He barked out a short laugh.  “You could say that.”

She nodded at the mats piled in the corner.  “Need to blow off some steam?  I was going to take a few rounds with the bag but if you want to spar-”

He held a taloned hand up.  “No offense, Shepard, but that wouldn’t be a sparring match.”  He raked the air in front of him.  “Talons, remember?”

It was her turn to shrug.  “So we lay ground rules.  No head shots, you keep your gloves on, and I’ll try not to gloat too much when I beat your ass.”

Garrus felt his heart pick up speed, beating a rapid tattoo in the wake of her challenge.  “You really want to do this, Shepard?”

“Why not?”  She started walking toward the mats.  “I may even let you get a few shots in, to apologize for taking your head off earlier.”  She pulled a mat down and flattened it on the floor.  “Take your armor off, Vakarian.”

“Whoa, Shepard, slow down.  I normally need at least a bottle of the good stuff and some light over-the-clothes action before I let someone romance me like that.”

Shepard threw a light punch at him, which he dodged easily.  “You’re an ass, Garrus.”

“And a hell of a crack shot.”

“That’s why I keep you around.”

Garrus stripped off his plate armor and piled it in the corner.  The lightweight bodysuit he wore underneath wouldn’t give him any more protection from her blows than her clothing would protect her from his, but at least he knew she couldn’t tear it with her nails.  He, on the other hand, would only need to slip and he could not only slice off a pantleg, but an entire _leg_.

Shepard got into a beginning stance and motioned for him to do the same.  He shook his head.  “Shepard, I don’t know about this.  Even with my gloves on, I could still really hurt you-”

A blow to his side cut off his words.  He gasped in surprise.  The blow had stung, but hadn’t hurt, but he also knew she hadn’t put her full weight behind it.  

“What, can’t give me an old fashioned count to three?” he said, ducking her fist as it came whistling at his shoulder.

“Never said anything in the rules about a starting count,” she said, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.  She dodged the open-handed swipe he aimed at her and laughed.  “Come on, Garrus, quit trying to kiss me with your hand and actually hit me.”

Garrus growled at her. "You asked for it." He lunged, wrapping his long arms around her knees. Shepard hit the floor with an _ooof_ , the breath leaving her lungs.

She didn't hesitate, though, lashing out with her fists, landing two solid hits on the harder parts of his carapace.  She avoided the soft flesh below, not wanting to hurt him. Her intent was to get him off her. _Christ, he was heavy._

She twisted beneath him and Garrus used the advantage his position on top of her gave him to hold her still.  He braced one forearm against her lower ribs, right below her breasts, the other arm balanced against the cold floor.  He bent down, close enough that she could feel the air his mandibles displaced as he said, "Ready to give up yet, Shepard?"

She snorted, a smile that was all teeth gracing her sharp features. "You know me better than anyone on this boat, big guy. What do you think?"

He leaned closer. She was hot, almost abnormally so and it felt good compared to the cold bay floor. "I think you're about to try and-"  A whiff of something sweet with a spicy undertone sent him reeling. _It couldn't be. Not her. Not Shepard._

Shepard saw his momentarily dazed expression and took the opening.  Using strength he knew she possessed but still managed to shock him every time it was displayed, she kicked at him, aiming for the spurs on the backs of his legs.  He jerked just enough to give her room to shove him away before she scurried across the floor and quickly leapt to her feet.

Garrus had fallen backwards, catching himself on his hands.  Instinct had kicked in and he wanted to drag her closer and bury his face in her hair to try and confirm what he had caught scent of earlier, but Shepard would likely kill him if he tried.  So he stayed on the floor, staring at her.

“Problem, Garrus?”

He shook his head slowly.  “Not sure, Shepard.  Really not sure at this point.”

She relaxed, crossing her arms.  “Going to tell me what’s wrong, or can we get back to sparring?”

He laughed a bit shakily.  “Oh, we can go again, but I need you to answer something for me.”  At the implied permission her raised eyebrow gave him, he took a moment before saying, “Were you on the Citadel tonight, Shepard?”

She didn’t even flinch.  “No, but you were.  Why?”

Her amused, slightly puzzled tone had him sighing in relief.  Of course it hadn’t been Shepard, he was thinking crazy.   _That woman_ and her leather waist thing had him thinking crazy.  “It’s nothing, forget I said anything.  Must have had too much to drink tonight.”  He pulled himself to his feet and motioned her forward.  “Care to see if you can take me for real this time?”

 

* * *

 

Garrus ran a hand over his shoulder.  Shepard had gotten in more than a few good hits before he’d pinned her to the ground that last time.  It’d been brutal, and it hadn’t helped that she was as stubborn as Wrex but she’d finally conceded.  But not before she stated that Garrus owed her.

He was pretty sure “owing” Shepard involved beer and some rounds with his favorite sniper rifle, but for her, it was a favor he could deal with.  How him winning their bout meant he owed her was just one of the mysteries of his relationship with the Commander.

He stretched, wincing as the muscles pulled and he felt his plates scrape over abused flesh.  He was going to feel that in the morning - Shepard wasn’t joking when she said she’d do her best to beat his ass.

The mechanic chime of his door unlocking had him looking up from the console he’d been working on at the back of the room.  A hand slammed into his sore shoulder, pressing him into the wall, his face pushed uncomfortably into the cold, unforgiving metal of the ship.

“I lied earlier,” came her voice, husky and rough with something he couldn’t quite place.  “I was on the Citadel tonight, but you already knew that, didn’t you Garrus?”

That hand clutched at his shoulder and spun him.  The room was a blur and then all he saw was her.  Her hair was down and her eyes were dark and she was wearing that thing he’d seen her in before and she smelled like musk and something sweet and spicy and it all made sense.

His mandibles flared as he tried to smell her, overwhelmed by everything about her.  She pushed at his shoulder again and he groaned; she chuckled at the sound.  “Should have known turians liked a little bit of pain with their pleasure.”  She pressed into him, all that warm, soft flesh making him feel _things_.

 _Spirits take him, he was in trouble_.  “Yeah, I knew,” he finally replied.  “Some part of me did, even if I chose to ignore it.”

She chuckled, the sound’s edges rough but its center damn near molten. ”I could feel you watching me, Garrus. Have to admit, I was surprised seeing you there, but it felt good.”

“I’m guessing you and I weren’t supposed to cross paths?”

Shepard shook her head.  “I’ve been going to that bar for years. It used to be invite only.”

That made Garrus laugh.  “The great Commander Shepard taken down by a bar that suddenly lets in all the riffraff?”

“Stow it, Vakarian.”  She stilled, and he stopped laughing.  “No one was supposed to know.”  Her eyes went very, very dark.  “And then there you were there and I - ”

“Ruined your little secret, did I?” he purred, letting a little desire seep into his subvocals.  “Shepard in black leather and she can dance?”  He leaned forward, close enough to breathe her in.  The smell of her made his mind blank out.  “Why fake your dancing, Shepard?”

Shepard pushed against him, taking control back.  “It humanizes me.  Makes the crew happy.  And honestly, I really can’t dance, nothing that’s not all seductive.  If I wanted to hump every crew member, I would dance like I did tonight in front of them.  It’s just easier not to.”  

She looked up at him, mouth dangerously close to his.  “I knew you were there five minutes after I stepped out on the floor.”  Her soft lips brushed his scarred mandible and he sucked in a breath.  “I stayed, hoping you’d come out there with me.  Part of me wanted you to discover my little secret.  It would be a relief, I’ve kept this pent up for so long.”  A clever tongue flicked out, tasting him and he moaned softly.  She squeezed his arms gently before saying, “I’ve wanted you for a while, Garrus.”

She pulled back, taking her warmth with her, and eyed him carefully.  One small hand ran down her side, pausing in the dip of her waist and his breath hitched.  Damn her and her wicked smile when she heard it.  Tossing her hair back, she tipped her head to look at him.  “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll go.  We’ll forget this ever happened and you and I will go back to drinking beer and shooting Collectors like normal.”  She grabbed one taloned hand and brought it up for examination.  “Tell me to stay, and I get to find out if there is a good way for us to put these talons to use.”

A thrill raced down his spine, rocking him into her.   _Did she know what she was asking for?_  A look at her slightly parted mouth and heaving chest gave him his answer.   _Am I ready to give that to her?_   He felt his pulse racing and he knew.  He took one deep breath and said, "Stay."

Shepard didn’t hesitate. She yanked his head down, bringing their foreheads together briefly (she’d done her homework), before sliding her mouth over his.  Garrus simply held on as this soft, warm, aggressive woman captured his mouth in a way that registered as needy and affectionate.

A giddy, sort of insane thought raced through his mind before he shoved it away.   _I’m kissing Shepard.  Spirits, she’s either going to fuck me or kill me - maybe both.  Hell of a way to go_.

He tried to keep up with her, he did, but having plates instead of lips impeded his ability some.  What he did have, however, was a very quick, flexible tongue.

Shepard gasped against him as his tongue chased hers, dancing for dominance as he yanked her hard against him.  He wrapped his unsheathed hands around her upper arms, squeezing just enough to make her squirm and slid one knee between her legs.

Shepard was too distracted by _that damn tongue_ to stop Garrus when he used his height and leverage to spin them, slamming her into the wall he had been occupying.  Shepard broke the kiss, breathing raggedly, and said in a raw voice, “Damn, Garrus, you do know how to treat a lady.”

He laughed at that, his subvocals pried away.  That deep, dark tone did things to the coil pulled too taut in her belly and she groaned.  “No, I have no idea what humans like, or ladies.”  He braced himself over her, both hands on the wall above her head.  Looming over her like the predator he truly was, he said, “But I do know what you like, Shepard.  Action, hot and fast and as much as you can handle until you scream.  I’ve seen it on the battlefield - it shouldn’t shock me that you fuck the same way you fight.”

She arched up, trying to get closer to him.  “Keep talking dirty to me like that, big guy, and you’ll see just how much I can handle.”

Garrus hummed approvingly.  “Is that a challenge, Shepard?  I seem to recall you losing the last one.”

“I admit, you did beat me that time.”  She slid a hand up his chest and around his neck to bury nimble fingers at the base of his fringe, making him purr.  “You had reach, it gave you the advantage.  But here, now?”  She pulled him down to nibble at the soft underside of his neck.  “I have flexibility Garrus.  You said you’ve seen my moves in a fight?  Imagine what this body can do when it’s wrapped around yours.”

He felt something snap in his mind - a tether of control, perhaps, a part of the leash keeping him from throwing her down on the floor and claiming her violently, passionately. Other species liked to joke about the mating habits of turians, almost as much as they did about krogans. Things were said about turians and talons, innuendos about claws marks on certain delicate areas, and how turians were indiscriminate about their lovers - the number or the gender.  All true, in most cases. But find a turian who had spent enough time around asari or humans, and, well....minds could be changed.

And turians could love quite well, if not attentively. The jokes and jibes forgot those details.

Garrus growled, more at himself than her, but it elicited a shudder from her that reverberated in him nonetheless. He snared a talon in her hair and finally replied softly, "Oh, I'm imaging, Shepard. It's like a running vid in my head.”

She laughed at that. "I bet it is." He bent to run his tongue over her neck and she stopped him. He pulled back, concern in his eyes and she just smiled. "Just remembered something."

A sharp jab in the flesh of his neck made him rear back slightly. He slapped a hand over the spot. "Ow, Shepard, what the - "

She tossed the hypo into a nearby disposal. "We're allergic to each other if there's too much contact with the more fleshy bits." She leaned in and grazed his neck with her teeth. "I've been loading myself with antihistamines for weeks.”

That made him laugh.  “Egotistical much?”

“More like practical,” she shot back, her nails lighting fiery paths down the soft flesh of his neck.  “I’ve been waiting for you, Garrus.”

Clever talons started to gently pick at the tight lacing on her right side.  “You weren’t afraid I might think humans are - what’s the word? Icky?”

Not one to be left behind, Shepard started to work at the complicated zippers on his jacket.  “Not a bit.  I’ve seen you watching me, giving me little looks when you think I’ve turned my back.”  Nimble fingers got one zipper down and went to work on the next.  “I’ve seen you looking at my ass, Garrus.  I knew you didn’t think I was icky.  Just the opposite.”

Garrus was growing frustrated with the lacing on her corset.  It wasn’t giving way.  “How did you get yourself into this thing?”

She spun and reached around to push at a small piece of fabric, revealing a zipper.  “I cheated, Garrus.”

Garrus hummed appreciatively.  “Commander Shepard, I’m surprised at you.”  He hooked a talon in the zipper and slowly slid it down.  “Taking the easy way out?”

She wiggled as the zipper slid lower.  “Won’t happen again.”  The corset parted and she didn’t stop it as it fell away.  Garrus got an eyeful as she turned around, naked from the waist up, covered in nothing but her hair and her eyes almost glowing black in the dim crimson light.   “And here I thought you appreciated what the corset did to my figure,” she whispered, stepping closer to him.

“Oh, I did,” he said, talons raking lightly over her bare skin.  An unbidden shiver slid down her spine and he chuckled.  “But I find myself appreciating this view so much more.”  She reached for him, tugging at the zippers left on his clothes.  Too many clothes, she thought, wanting to see him.  He pushed her hands away and started to do it himself.  “I’ll teach you how, later,” he purred, zippers and catches clacking and snicking as he swiftly opened and slid them down.  The jacket dropped to the floor and he started to undo the clasps holding his bodysuit together, the only thing left between him and her other than her tight pants.  He got it down as far as his waist until Shepard pulled him in for another kiss, her hands everywhere on him, making him crazy.

She finally broke away to step back and kick off her heels, bringing her down a few inches.  “Sure you want to do this here?”

He reached out to very, very gently cup a breast in his palm.  It was soft, heavier than it looked, and warm, surprisingly so.  “And after all your jokes about calibrations and what I do down here all day, I thought you planned this.”  He shoved her back up against the wall and lifted her, forcing her to wrap her legs around his narrow waist.  “Are we moving the party then, Shepard?”  He shoved a little harder, letting her feel what had separated the plates between his legs.  “Or am I taking you against this wall, then we’ll both drag our asses to your cabin and do it again?”

Shepard arched against him, a little moan escaping her lips.  This was better than anything she could have made up even when she was alone and staring up at the stars rushing past, her hand between her legs and her breathing ragged as she closed her eyes and tried to envision him playing with her, teasing her, taking her.  “Only if I get to be on top the second time.”

He growled, raking his talons down the side seam of her pants.  She gasped, biting her lower lip as she felt the tips of those sharp points sting her skin.  “I liked those pants,” she murmured in his ear as he bent slightly to rip them away.

“I prefer them off,” he growled back, nipping at her neck.  Another swipe and she was naked, warm and squirming against him.  The human body was strange and beautiful all at once and as much as he wanted to lay out her beneath him and look and touch, he just wanted her.  Now.

Holding her up with an arm, he pushed the bodysuit down further, exposing his hips and thighs.  She craned her head to look down between them for a moment, then jerked her head back up, grinning.  “The vids weren’t lying.”

He stuttered for a moment then found himself laughing.  “Did some research, Commander?”

A hand snaked down and grabbed him, squeezing gently.  His forehead crashed into hers and he moaned before pressing his mouth to the pulse in her neck.  “A bit.”  His sharp teeth grazed that delicate point and her breath hitched.  “ _Oh, Garrus_.”

He broke then, the last bit of his control gone.  Growling, he shoved her higher up on the wall and reached between them, feeling for the wetness he knew he’d find at the apex of her thighs.  He’d done some research, too, on those sleepless nights when she haunted his dreams and left him aching and needing more than his own touch.  She moaned and writhed against him, wordlessly pleading for him.

“Jane.”

Said like a benediction and a promise, her name escaped him as he pushed against, then into her.  They both groaned, getting used to the feel of each other’s bodies and heat and textures, the little room smelling like sweat and sex and and the remnants of Shepard’s perfume.  The scent that had originally drawn him to her and had revealed her secret.

Shepard braced herself on his shoulders, using her strength to push herself up just to sink back down again, drawing a strangled groan from him.  “You’re good at this,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Pretty good for someone who’s never had a turian,” she panted out, moving against him again.  “You’re not so bad yourself, Garrus.”

“I told you,” he said, pressing into her all the way.  She screamed a little and he shuddered.  “I know you, Jane.  I know what you like, and what you want.”

He let her go then, and braced himself on the wall, hands on either side of her head as she clung to him, pushing back against him.  Pleasure slid through both of them, hot and unyielding.  Their movements became jerky, losing rhythm before they were overcome, overwhelmed.  Their cries mingled and bounced off the walls of that little space as they lost themselves in each other and fell into that abyss.

It was hot and messy and fast and perfect.  Shepard wouldn’t have changed a thing, even after they slid to the floor together, limbs tangled and her hair sticking to both of them.    

Garrus brought his forehead to her temple, his hot breath in her ear as he said, “Can you move yet?”

“Can you?” she asked in reply, smiling as she toyed with the hand laying languidly on her thigh.

“Give me fifteen seconds.

“Deal.  My cabin?”

“That was the plan, Jane.”

* * *

 

_2 hours later_

Shepard and Garrus lay in a heap on her bed, their bodies cooling in the cold air of her cabin.  Garrus shivered and pulled her closer.  Shepard took the hint and pulled a blanket over them, making Garrus groan and fling himself half over her.  Sleep started to claim them both when his voice startled her awake.

"You pulled a gun on me tonight.  You’ve never done that before"

Shepard cracked one eye opened.  "Don't sound so shocked, big guy. I only pull guns when I'm serious."

"So you were seriously going to shoot me?"

"No. At that moment, I panicked and was torn between not wanting you to find out who I was and really just wanting to drop the game, admit everything.. You backed me into a corner, I reacted."

His talons toyed with her hair.  "So what changed?"

She smiled.  “Other than the possibility of amazing sex?”  He snorted and she chuckled.  "I got back to the Normandy and realized that I missed an opportunity. I wanted you for so long and I started thinking about why I was holding back - our friendship, the Collectors, and realized that I could wait and hope for things to get better, or I could take a chance and see what happens. Figured the worst was that you'd say no and we'd be awkward around each other for a bit, but it wouldn't do any lasting damage to our friendship."

"And at best, we'd wind up like this."

"No, at best hasn't happened yet."

"Oh, really?"

She rolled on top of him, brushing her breasts over his chest plates and pinning him to the mattress.  “Still thinking about sleeping?”

He gripped her upper arms but she wiggled free, scooting down his body.  “Not if you keep going in that direction.”

Her mouth descended on him and he stopped talking.  

When she had drained him of pleasure again and she had finally fallen asleep, he looked down and saw her curled against his side.  She looked....vulnerable.  It seemed impossible that the mighty, back-from-the-dead Commander Shepard could look so tiny, so fragile but the woman sleeping next to him took his breath away.  She was beautiful.

Spirits, he loved her.

It scared and thrilled him, the thought of not being able to separate his feelings for what she could do to him for the woman she was.  If this was the start of something, if it was more than just blowing off steam, if he really meant love....

Well, then Shepard and Vakarian were a team.  And a hell of a team it was, and would be.  

No Shepard, no Vakarian.  He swore that silent oath to her before scooping her into his arms and falling asleep.

 


End file.
